


The Training of Aradia Megido

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (Not quite prostitution), BDSM, Blackmail, Brainwashing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dubious Ethics, Erotic Horror, F/F, Forced Sex Work, Humiliation, Hypnotically Induced Mental Health Issues, Hypnotism, In Media Res, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Possession, Psychological Horror, Unconventional Format, We're gonna Tarantino this shit timeline wise, dubcon, format screw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It delighted in cruelty, not because it typically felt delight, but because its owner delighted in cruelty, and it had been taught early on that its owners values were its values. Putting on a pair of striped stockings, a lovely garterbelt, a flouncy skirt, and an apron to avoid physical damage to its shell, it reached its camera underneath for one more shot. This one, it sent to one of her friends. One of the ones that hadn't asked where she was recently. And then,AA: I'm sorry! Oh jeez, I meant to send that to someone else--And so the imitation game began.
Relationships: Aradia Megido/Aranea Serket
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

It was so happy it could cry.

Frequently, it did. When it woke up in the morning and cleaned its head, it would cry a lot -- it used to cry far more frequently, back when there was much more resistance to swim through. The Aradia in its head was getting quieter and quieter each day, and thus, begat one of these saintly days where it didn't cry upon awakening. It could still hear  her, though, watching through its eyes, somber and quiet. Her labored breathing. Her empty throat no longer attempting to cry for help. Trapped inside the impenetrable steel cage that was its mind.

It always began the day, after any necessary cleansing, with a round of violation. This day would be no different. It stretched out all the ache from its limbs and got up from the doggy bed it slept in -- being a dog was not always one of its duties, but sleeping in a small space made it easier to store and less of a hassle. It always wished to be the minimum amount of hassle possible, and maximum usefulness, and so it gratefully accepted the doggy bed as a small token of appreciation. Before, it had slept on the floor, but its physical pain made it a suboptimal servant, and so a compromise was reached.

It grabbed its phone from the shelf. Returning to the doggy bed, it quietly rubbed the sore spots on its neck where its collar rubbed it the wrong way during sleep, and then began taking selfies. Nothing from the nose up, but enough so that the world would be able to see its plump, pouty lips curled into a mechanically separated smile, its round features belying a cherubic softness. It was always important to ensure that it had a ready stock of images to utilize, as it was a form of income for its owner, and, in a separate benefit, its original ego despised the idea of being photographed in any sort of sexual situation. Ensuring that Aradia was kept humiliated and in her place at all times of day was one of its essential duties as the operator of her body, since a thoroughly humiliated Aradia would be one more easily pliable.

The camera's intense gaze continued to move lower and lower down its body, and its thumb continued to imprecisely snap picture after picture of herself. The recent addition of a barbell in each nipple had almost broken Aradia's cage, but thankfully, its owner was capable of grabbing hold of its hand and mind and helping it down from the panic attack. No, letting Aradia out now would be disastrous. As the now-awakened vestigial ego watched, it reached up and tweaked at its own nipple, taking a couple of GIFs for its adoring fans. Not that it felt anything back for them. They were sources of income, and nothing more.

And while it felt and interpreted those drives of nervous impulse that a less well-trained mind would understand were pleasure, it knew that feeling pleasure was restricted for when it was deigned by its owner. The nerve signals shot up from its nipple, through its body, and immediately died upon entrance to its brain. The bulk of the sensation passed through the gate, making their way to the prisoner in its head, making her flinch and writhe, but none of that mattered to it, who attained no pleasure from such useless material things. It was, of course, getting very wet, but only at the thought that it would be useful to its owner, that it would be acquiring additional capital for her. The sense of debasement and submissive usefulness was the only thing it was allowed to independently retain as pleasure-inducing thoughtforms.

The physical action provided nothing. The mental/emotional action made it aroused. No matter how hard it pulled, squeezed, pinched, and tugged at the silver barbells. In the middle of its routine, as it was reaching down to spread its legs for more intimate shots, it received a text from some of Aradia's former friends. It deleted it without looking. They had been growing insistent recently, asking to know where its old ego was. It told them once that she was leaving for a new opportunity, and that they should not wait up for her. Perhaps they missed her. The train of thought only distracted it long enough to notice Aradia rattling the cages of her cell, tears in her eyes, muttering some useless drivel.

It had mastery of its own mindscape. Aradia's face found itself bound with tape before long. She would be quiet.

It began to slide fingers inside of itself, spreading it more open for the camera's viewport, taking snapshot after snapshot of the lewd and obscene. The occasional recording of it fingering itself. It emotionlessly put on a stellar imitation of emotion, bleating and moaning for the hypothetical future crowd, gyrating its hips, and putting on all manners of affectation for the camera. A higher-quality performance resulted in more money. Then, licking its fingers clean and taking mute joy in knowing Aradia hated the taste, it cleaned itself up and began putting on its uniform.

Every piece of clothing just made its plump, pleasantly proportioned body more in tune with its new ego. The act of egocide took a surprising amount of effort to maintain, especially when your owner specifically avoided the destruction of the original personality so that it could be tortured more, but its personality and beliefs were perfectly in line with its  owner's, and so it knew that this sort of routine to maintain Aradia was for the best. Keeping her alive in its head to fuck with was a far more amusing and cruel, and thus, more arousing, option. In that way, it was less of an egocide and more of an ego... torture, it supposed. For all intents and purposes, though, it was as if the original ego had died. Not that anyone would know.

It delighted in cruelty, not because it typically felt delight in the way others did, but because its owner delighted in cruelty, and it had been taught early on that its owner's values were its values. Putting on a pair of striped stockings, a lovely garterbelt, a flouncy skirt, and an apron to avoid physical damage to its shell, it reached its camera underneath for one more shot. This one, it sent to one of her friends. One of the ones that hadn't asked where she was recently. And then,

AA: I'm sorry! Oh jeez, I meant to send that to someone else--

And so the imitation game began. Its imitation of Aradia's psyche, pitch, and personality was particularly perfect, considering where and how it was born, and the situation was effortlessly defused in minutes. It did not put on a shirt underneath its apron, because its breasts needed to be accessible to its owner at any time. It did not put on underwear underneath its skirt, because its holes needed to be accessible to its owner at any time. Its owner was asleep, as she usually was at 7:00 AM, but being accessible at any hour, any minute, any second was paramount, as was reacting as if it was human, and not an object to be used and abused.

It was satisfied with its life. Splatters of flour streaked across its skin as it began yet another laborious task for its owner. The process of crafting, kneading, and baking dough was one that brought it no satisfaction outside of ensuring that its owner would be provided with nourishment. Its arms strained at the effort ensuing. It was getting stronger, physically, and so it was likely that once it became strong enough that the baking of bread daily was no longer much of an impediment, it would inform its owner so that it could be made to perform a differently strenuous task.

That was its job.

To ensure Aradia was in agony.

As the bread sat in the oven, it began posting the images.

======> 9 Months Ago...


	2. Chapter 2

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The other woman said, sitting in her chair, legs folded politely in front of her. Aradia shyly poked her head through the door with a little wry smile, face caught between the door and the frame, eliciting a "Come in, come in!" from the other woman, waving a hand, beckoning her close. "Aradia, right? Come in, take a seat."

"Yeah! Um. Aradia Megido? We talked on the phone yesterday..." Aradia murmured, almost below the threshold of audibility as she nearly slithered into the room, squeezing past the door, shutting it behind her. While the other woman was sitting pretty and pleasant in an office chair, complete with little wheels, Aradia had the opportunity to just meander her way into the much more comfortable looking chaise, gently depositing herself upon it. "You take insurance, right, Mrs. Serket?"

"Of course! And please, call me Aranea." Aranea replied, putting a hand over her lips and giggling politely. "Mrs. Serket is my mother's name, there's no need for any of that fanciness."

"Oh! Okay. Are you sure?" Aradia asked, reaching into her wallet to pull out her credit card and her little insurance card. She got up, quietly ambled over to Aranea, and put them in the therapist's lap, before returning to her seat. "And, um, can we take care of this right now? I get anxious thinking about money too much, I'd rather get it over with right away."

"Of course." Aranea replied, flashing Aradia a pleasant grin. She got up, then, shortly thereafter, walking over to her desk so she could stick Aradia's chip card into a little card reading machine. "Your co-pay is going to be forty dollars for the session. Is that okay?"

"Mmhmm." Aradia responded, watching Aranea from behind while the therapist sent the electronic charge through to Aradia's debit account, where she could worry about it less now and more later. Patiently, she sat there, continuing to observe Aranea while she walked back over to her, handing her the two cards back. Aradia snatched them out of Aranea's hand, trying not to appear too skittish as she stuffed them back into her wallet.

"So, what brings you to my practice? I hear you mention something about anxiety, lack of confidence, cigarette addiction?" Aranea asked, tenting her hands together. Her fingers furled together into a gentle lattice, one that she immediately rested her chin upon, leaning forward with a vested interest in Aradia's answer. Aranea was a very pleasant looking lady to look at - Aradia wasn't much into girls, but Aranea had this very soothing, librarian-like countenance, with a cute little bob cut, and big oval glasses, and a sort of casual-professional pencil skirt and blouse combination thing going on. It made Aradia feel very at-ease.

"Mmhmm. That about sums it up. Um. My sister, Damara, said you made her cigarette thing go right away, and I think... I think that would be cool? I'd like to not, have to, like, worry about that sort of thing anymore. Can you really do that?" Aradia asked, her entire body curled up into a tight, compressed little ball on the chaise. So little relaxation, so much tension, bundled up in every square inch of her. Aranea appraised her like one considered dogs at a kennel.

"Of course I can." She replied, confident, almost cocksure. "Hypnosis can do a great many things, purportedly, but only some of them have any empirical data to back them up. Studies, you know. Statistics. It's best at pain management. Habit formation, and, in this case, I suppose de-formation... Habit dissipation? I'll have to come up with a better word for it. Anyway, those things, those are more proven. After all, does your sister smoke anymore?"

"No, I guess she doesn't..." Aradia said. Aradia was distinctly unaware of Damara's new habit of frequent masturbation that had been put in to replace the dopamine generated from smoking, and she would stay blissfully unaware, forever. No need to tell her that.

"And you do, and you'd like to stop. Right?" Aranea more said than she asked.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Serket." Aradia nodded, leaning, lurching forward with motion as she talked.

Aranea smiled silently, and then pursed her lips. "Great. Let me explain to you what's going to happen, then."

"Please do." Aradia interrupted, leaning back in the chaise. Aranea's upper lip twitched, if only for a small moment.

"...Alright, I will. I'm going to use what's called an "induction" on you - specifically, the Elman induction, it'll be great, it's very easy to do. This induction will put you in a state of heightened awareness and calm and suggestibility that we call "trance", alright?" Aranea started, pausing for a moment to get Aradia's assent. Once you started getting the yes's, it was child's play to get more of them, like lucky streaks with loaded dice.

"Yes, I get it." Aradia answered.

"Great. After that, we'll put in some suggestions. For today, we'll start with the cigarettes - I don't want to overload you with suggestions just yet - and make sure that everything fits in nicely. Then, we'll bring you back up and wake you up. And if at any time in the process you feel uncomfortable, you feel like you want to wake up and go away, you just let me know, alright?" Aranea continued, watching Aradia closely for reactions.

"Alright. I think I can do that. When are we going to start?" Aradia asked, sitting up in a normal sitting position, holding her hands out all polite in her lap. "Is there anything special you need me to do?"

Aranea wheeled herself over across the carpet, taking a couple of gentle, feeble kicks to get herself close to Aradia. "Just listen and follow along with my instructions, okay?"

"Yes'm." Aradia responded, with a quiet gulp.

"Are you ready to listen close and follow along?" Aranea asked, looking Aradia directly in the eyes. It was perhaps the opposite of transfixing - Aradia wanted little more but to look away, to pull away, to retract and disappear from the situation, but she knew that following along would probably be for the best for her, so she forced herself to look into Aranea's eyes.

"Yes, I'm good. I'm ready." She answered.

"Feeling alright?" Aranea asked.

"Yes, I'm... I'm okay. Yeah, I'm feeling alright." She answered.

Great. I'd like you to start by letting your eyes drift shut - very good, just like that, you're already doing so well - and let them stay like that. Imagine them relaxing, your eyelids fluttering down to a close, feeling yourself relaxing the muscles that you use to blink with, letting them get so heavy, so nice and heavy. So relaxed that, so long as you keep that relaxation up, you'll find it's impossible to open your eyelids back up. Go ahead, give it a try.

"I can't. The-They're not opening." Aradia murmured, her eyelids visibly fluttering, _straining_ to open as Aranea's words dug into her head, wrapping around her brain like spiderwebs, binding it tight in sticky thread. Holding her shut. "Why can't I open my eyes?"

Deep breaths, Aradia. At any time, you can open your eyes if you really need to - you can let go of that relaxation, and let your eyes open right up. But you acn also show how much control you have over yourself by letting them stay shut and relaxed. What better way to demonstrate the power of mind over matter? It's called "eyelid catalepsy" - it's an essential component of this. Just take a deep breath and relax. Stop testing your eyes, and take a nice, deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. That's right, just like that.

"Okay. Okay. Sorry. Sorry." Aradia replied, shaking like a quiet leaf.

No, no need to apologize. In a moment, I'm going to ask you to open your eyes. Then, I'm going to pass my hand in front of you - you can see that shadow now, can't you? Good. And when I do, you'll shut your eyes again, letting them drift shut, feeling twice as relaxed as you were when you opened them. Just letting a wave of relaxation carry you from top to bottom. Ready?

"Mmhmm..." Aradia mumbled.

Good. Open your eyes... and close your eyes, very good! Open your eyes... and close your eyes. How does that feel?

"Quiet. Relaxing." Aradia softly whined.

Good! I'm glad you can relax a little bit, and let your stress go. It feels nice to feel quiet inside. Open those eyes... close those eyes, very good! Doesn't it feel like they're getting harder and harder to open every time you do it? Easier and easier to let them stay closed?

"Mmhmm."

Good, very good! You're doing very well. Open those eyes... and close those eyes, very good. Open... close. Does it feel like you can't even open them any more?... Oh, right, if it feels like you're too relaxed to speak, you can just nod or shake your head, and I'll try to ask just yes or no questions. Okay? Perfect! Now, in a moment, I'm going to lift your arm up, and I want you to just let go of it entirely. Keep your arm completely relaxed, and let me handle all of the lifting, alright? Just let me lift it up, and gravity pull it back down, and when it hits your lap you can feel yourself falling twice as deep, becoming twice as relaxed... Very good! And just for good measure, I'll lift it once more... Perfect. How is that, feeling good?

Great. You're clearly physically relaxed, but we could get you more mentally relaxed, how does that sound? Oh, excuse me, does that sound good? Great. I want you to imagine now, that we're counting backwards from 100. I want you to say, or mouth if you want, the numbers, and then with each number, imagine writing it down somewhere, like a chalkboard or a piece of paper, and then erase it and say "Deeper down". Like this, "100, deeper down, 99, deeper down", alright? Great. You're doing so well! And if it feels like you're losing the numbers, and you can't keep track of what you already counted, or what comes next, that's okay, you can just go quiet and I'll know that we're ready to continue.

Ready, Aradia?

"One hundred... Deeper down... Ninety nine... Deeper down... Ninety eight... Uh... Um... Ninety...


End file.
